Luke's Message
by deepfriedcake
Summary: Tells Luke's side of "Your Message Here."


**Author's Note: **This is a sequel to _Your Message Here_. If you wondered how the bumper sticker found its way onto Luke's truck, this provides the answer.

* * *

><p>One of the town's perpetual festivals was in full-swing out in the square again. Luke had no idea which one this was and he had no intention of finding out. His impression had always been that they were all mostly the same, and now that he didn't have <em>her<em> babbling about them anymore and dragging him outside to sample some sort of cholesterol-laden junk food that he didn't want anyway, he could let them all slide by in a blur. Selective vision. That had been his secret to remaining sane in this crazy town for years.

It had always irritated him when Taylor and Patty and the rest of the town accused him of being anti-Stars Hollow and a grump because he didn't buy into the whole 'Festival of the Week' mentality. But what would that do for him? They didn't seem to realize that every festival ate into his profits. People outside buying something-fried-on-a-stick and bags of cotton candy were not going to come into his diner and buy burgers. He was a big tough guy and he wasn't going to say that their callous disregard about his livelihood hurt his feelings, but sometimes…it hurt his feelings.

Besides, how many towns needed to have money set aside in the yearly budget for the printing up of festival banners? Crazy. The town was crazy.

This week's insanity seemed louder than usual. Every time the diner's door opened discordant music poured in. It reminded Luke of grade school, when the teacher would start the first group of students singing "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" and then the next group would chime in, and the next, until at the end it was all pleasing jumble of sounds. But the racket from the square didn't sound pleasing at all. It almost sounded like two different songs being sung at the same time. That surely wasn't possible, was it?

A knot of people pushed in through the door, most of them either wanting a (free) glass of water or to use the bathroom. He should really keep track of that and show the figures to Taylor the next time he went off on his speech about how good the festivals were for local businesses.

Luke noticed the Banyan boys spread out over one of the biggest tables by the window. Skeptically he went over to take their order and was shocked when the oldest pulled a wad of cash from his pocket. He was threatening to call the cops when Rabbi Barans stepped in, informing him that the youngsters had earned the money legitimately. Apparently they'd been selling ear plugs to the festival-goers deafened by the noise in the square.

Luke figured the kids had swiped the ear plugs to start with but he had to grudgingly admire their business savvy. He put some extra cheese on their burgers to make up for his suspicious nature.

When the junior edition of America's Most Wanted ran off, their table was a jumble of used napkins, spilled drinks and squished fries. With a mental shrug Luke went over to bus it.

He was facing the window, shoving the mess into the plastic bin, when he spotted _her._ It wasn't like he was looking for her or anything like that. She was just hard to miss. She had on a white t-shirt with some sort of cat printed on it, and it must have had sequins sewed on it or something because every time she turned the sun caught them and made it seem like she was shimmering. Plus she had on her 'Hot Plates' jeans. The ones he'd made the mistake of telling her were really workin' for her. He'd developed a selective memory to go along with his selective vision and thus was able to forget that she used to wear them just for him.

She was still in his vision when he noticed her rubbing her arms as if she was chilled. He knew it had to be 85 degrees in the shade today. The humidity level was way up there, too. He could tell that by the way her hair was curling. Maybe if she wasn't constantly sucking down some sort of highly-sugared, artificially-flavored slushy drink she wouldn't be so cold.

All at once she took off across the square at a trot. His heart started hammering and he stepped closer to the window to be able to see. Was she meeting somebody? Had she been waiting for somebody to come and pick her up? Was this the day when he'd finally have to watch her be with somebody else?

No. There was no one there. Luke breathed deeply and felt his chest expand in relief. He was about to get back to work when Lorelai abruptly turned and faced the diner. For a moment it looked like she was staring directly in the window. It felt like she was looking right at him, and without even thinking Luke raised his arm in greeting. In a second he realized how foolish that was and snatched his arm down, glancing over his shoulder guiltily to see if anyone had noticed. Luckily no one had. By the time he looked back again, Lorelai had moved off to where Kirk was set up in front of the church.

Mentally he gave himself a good shake while he finished clearing the table. He was over her. He didn't think about her anymore, or remember back to when he'd mistakenly believed they were happy. Sure, there'd been a time when he'd assumed they'd grow old together, but that had gone away faster than she could say 'I slept with Christopher.'

He was fine. His life was fine. He didn't need any of the town's festivals or crazy stunts. And he certainly didn't need _her_.

* * *

><p>Late on Sunday night Luke was nearly finished with cleaning up behind the counter when the bell over the door dinged one more time. He panicked but his arm still reached automatically for the coffeepot. What could he possibly say to her? How could he keep from yelling at her? How could he stop from jumping across the counter and grabbing her and never letting her go?<p>

"Luke?"

The disappointment at hearing Kirk's voice instead of Lorelai's was so bitterly dense that he nearly choked. He swallowed hard and set the coffeepot back down.

"We're closed, Kirk."

"The door wasn't locked," Kirk pointed out.

Luke pulled himself together and turned to face Kirk. "I've got leftover coffee and two old doughnuts. I'm not fixing anything else for you."

"I don't want anything to eat." Kirk made himself at home, climbing onto a stool at the counter. "I wanted to inform you about something."

Tiredness suddenly overwhelmed Luke and he leaned his elbows on the counter. "What is it?" he asked without any real interest. He figured it was best to just get it over with.

Kirk steepled his fingers and looked, if possible, even more serious than usual. "I've given this a great deal of thought and I've decided that I'm allowed to tell you this, even though I learned it during what could be considered a privileged conversation while conducting the duties of my job."

Irritation was building. "You're not a priest, Kirk. Or a lawyer. You don't have privileged conversations."

Kirk tilted his head and began to look confused. "But I found this out while selling a Kirker Sticker. Normally I'd keep any purchases in the strictest confidence."

"What the hell's a Kirker Sticker?"

"It's my own brand of bumper stickers," Kirk explained. "Only $5.00 each, but I could print you up a gross at a very reasonable price. Think how your business would boom with everyone in town driving around with 'Luke's Diner' sticker on their bumper. Maybe I could even incorporate the coffee cup logo. Do you want me to make up a sample?"

Luke gripped the counter hard and counted to ten. "I don't want a bumper sticker, Kirk. Just tell me why you're here and then get out."

"I'll make you up a sample anyway," Kirk said. He gulped when Luke glared at him. "Lorelai bought one," he quickly added. "Her own Kirker Sticker, I mean. Not a Luke's Diner one. But it was about you. That's why I thought you should know."

Hearing her name mentioned with his again made Luke feel like his stomach was caving in. "It doesn't matter to me," he insisted bravely. He didn't even want to think what a devious mind like Lorelai's could have thought to put on a bumper sticker. LUKE'S A POOPY HEAD flashed through his brain. "She can say whatever she wants."

"As long as it's not about Taylor," Kirk agreed. "Next to Lulu ― and Mother, of course ― you're my best friend, Luke. I just didn't want you to hear about this out on the mean streets."

Luke didn't have the strength left to point out that Stars Hollow hardly had _mean streets_. "Go home, Kirk."

Kirk got up and walked to the end of the counter. He opened his arms towards Luke. "Hug?"

"Kirk!" he bellowed. He didn't look up until Kirk's fast footsteps reached the door.

Luke quickly went to the door himself and locked it. He pulled shut the blinds and turned out the lights. He vowed to tough out whatever Lorelai was trying to stir up again. It would blow over.

He just needed to show how much he didn't care.

* * *

><p>Monday in the diner was going as well as could be expected, which meant long and drawn-out and boring. There was a time when his days were segmented by the appearance of a pair of bright blue eyes. For years she'd come tumbling in throughout the day, bringing in some fresh air and a dose of mischievousness. Breakfast and a joke. Lunch and a pun. Dinner and gossip. Late night pie and confessions. Then came the too-short period when every visit ended with a kiss over the counter. Two kisses and the day was half over. Four and he could take her upstairs. Now only the emptying napkin dispensers showed the passage of time.<p>

Later during that long afternoon Luke was surprised to walk in from the grill and see Sookie sitting at a table.

"Did they run out of pâté at that fancy place of yours?" he teased. He bent down to give her shoulders a squeeze. It was good to see her. She and Jackson and the kids had been in numerous times since the break-up, of course, but it was never the same.

Sookie giggled nervously. "Hey, Luke, could you sit down a minute?" She patted the seat next to her.

"Sure. I guess." Apprehension flared as he pulled out the chair.

Sookie's head bobbed, the sunlight glinting off her shiny hair. She blew out a big breath in preparation for whatever she had planned. "I wanted to tell you a story."

"A story?" he questioned warily. "What about?"

"Well, about a girl. A beautiful girl. A gorgeous girl who does really, _really_ stupid things when she's heartbroken."

Luke looked down at his feet, confused. Somehow he was standing again. He didn't remember getting up. "Is this about the bumper sticker?" he asked gruffly.

Sookie looked shocked. "You know about that?"

"Kirk told me. I don't care."

Sookie's mouth dropped open. "You don't _care_?" she squeaked out in disappointment.

"I don't care," he repeated manfully. "Look, Sookie ― I don't want anything bad to happen to Lorelai, you know? In fact, I wish her all the best. But the thing with us ― it's over. She needs to move on. It's just ― done."

"Done," Sookie echoed, mournfully. If he wasn't mistaken, her eyelashes were damp.

Luke uncomfortably took a step backwards. "Do you want something to eat?"

Everything about Sookie drooped unhappily. Her normally perky mouth quivered with a sad sigh. Guilt rolled over Luke. He'd broken Sookie. Jackson would be after his blood again.

"I'll take a Caesar's Salad," she said pitifully.

He nodded and ran to the safety of his kitchen, already planning to ask Lane to deliver the salad to the dining room.

* * *

><p>Tuesday started out normally enough, but as the day wore on more and more people went out of their way to say cryptic things to him.<p>

"Luke, could you come here for a minute?" Reverend Skinner requested politely at breakfast. "I was thinking about basing my sermon this next week on forgiveness. Don't you think that forgiveness is one of the most joyous emotions human beings are capable of experiencing?"

"Well, sure," Luke stammered, scratching under his hat. The minister might be one of the nicest guys he'd ever met, but he always made him nervous. "The Bible says 'To err is human; to forgive, divine,' right?"

"I thought that was Shakespeare," Zach mumbled, sweeping up a cornflake spill nearby.

"Benjamin Franklin," Taylor stated in his usual pompous style.

"Actually it's Alexander Pope," Archie Skinner clarified, beaming at Luke, "but that's certainly the right spirit! Well done!"

Luke mumbled something and walked away before he could be drawn into a more intensive theological debate.

A little later Miss Patty reached out and grabbed his hand as he sat down her scrambled eggs. "Tell me, Sweetheart, when are you going to stop this self-imposed exile and give that poor girl a chance again?"

"What?" Luke snatched his hand back. He never trusted Patty when she was close enough to touch him.

Patty shook her head at him. "Time's wasting away, Luke. You know that you had the perfect girl in your grasp. Isn't it time to forgive and forget? Give her another chance," she wheedled.

Luke was starting to catch on. He figured this had something to do with that message on the bumper sticker. Trust Lorelai to dredge things up again.

"You know, you're right," he told Patty sarcastically. "I think I'll give Nicole a call." He walked away as Patty clutched at her heart.

Lane was the next to approach him. "Hey, Luke, what would you do if a friend ― a really good friend ― like practically a second mother ― had a fight with another friend, and then the first friend didn't feel welcome coming into the other friend's restaurant anymore?"

"I'd say you're perfectly free to go find employment elsewhere," Luke said curtly. "Then your 'second mother' can stop by and see you all she wants."

"But I miss her," Lane told him, doing a really good job with the big sad eyes. "Everybody wishes she'd come in the diner again. Don't you?" she asked hopefully.

"That's her doing, not mine," Luke said and went to check on the roast in the oven.

Taylor cornered him after lunch. "I've been meaning to tell you that apparently I was…Well, I was wrong," Taylor said, looking as humble as he could with so little practice.

Luke snorted a laugh while he continued clearing a table. "I assume that crackling noise I hear is the flames of hell freezing over."

"It's true," Taylor insisted airily. "Oh, I know I had my doubts about you and Lorelai. I thought that when the two of you imploded it'd take the town down with it. But I have to admit, you've handled your break-up in a most mature fashion. Possibly I was wrong in my initial assessment of your relationship. It's possible that the two of you should be together after all."

"Don't hold your breath," Luke muttered. He ignored the world's most annoying man and escaped once again to the kitchen. Unfortunately he couldn't hibernate back there forever, and it seemed like every diner patron made sure he was able to overhear snatches of conversation concerning himself and Lorelai throughout the rest of the day.

When the phone rang in the midst of the dinner rush, the last person Luke expected to hear on the other end was his sister. Somehow even Liz, far away on the Renaissance Faire circuit, had been included in the effort to soften him up about Lorelai.

By the time he hung up his nerves were stretched thinner than fishing line. He was turning from the phone, rubbing his aching head in frustration, when he heard Tom's voice.

Tom ― the normally taciturn Tom ― was sitting at the counter and digging into a platter of roast beef manhattan. He leaned over towards Andrew and said loud enough to ensure that Luke could hear, "You know who's got the best head for business in this whole town? Lorelai, that's who. From the first time I met her I knew she'd be successful. Easy on the eyes, too," he stated, daring to glance Luke's way.

"That's it!" Luke yelled. He'd had enough. He had some menus in his hand and he smacked them down on the counter for added emphasis. "Caesar! Shut it down!"

Caesar's guarded face appeared around the corner.

"Finish feeding these busybodies and then show 'em the door! We're done here tonight!" Luke started to stomp towards the stairs.

"Luke, we didn't mean ―" Patty started.

Luke swirled back around. "Yes, you did mean! All of you think you know what's best, but you don't! What happened was between me and Lorelai! It's my life, not yours! You don't have a say in what I do!" He gulped in a breath and nearly gagged. "You don't get to tell me how I feel. I _know_ how I feel."

As soon as the raw-edged words left his mouth, Luke knew he'd admitted too much. Without looking at any of the sympathetic eyes turned his way he headed once again for the shelter of the curtain.

Upstairs he yanked off the hat that he could never get to fit comfortably on his head. He unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it on the floor, wishing he could drop the bad feelings from the day along with it.

Someone knocked on the door. Luke steamed over to answer it.

"What!" he yelled belligerently at no one. He blinked. No one was there. Then movement caught his eye and he lowered his gaze to Babette's blonde head.

'Hiya, Dollface," she said kindly. Her eyes widened at seeing only the white tee covering his chest.

"Whatever it is, I don't want to hear it," he told her, still trying to sound forceful.

"Maybe you don't wanna hear it, but you need to," Babette told him. "I want you to understand that I haven't taken sides in this whole thing. Lorelai's my girl, you know. She and Rory are like family to me and Morey. But you're special to me, too. You're like my guilty pleasure. I can come here and ogle you, and Morey don't say nothin' about it. I let him watch Jamie Lee as much as he wants in that shoot'em up movie and he lets me get my eyeful of you. It all works out."

"Babette," Luke groaned, mortification setting in.

"Maybe it's not possible for you and Lorelai to be all lovey-dovey again. I guess I can accept that. But you two were friends for a long, long time. Don't cha miss at least bein' friends?"

"Do you know what she did?" he muttered, wanting so much for this whole conversation to be over.

"Yeah, I know. She cried on my shoulder more'n once about it."

He tried to stop his heart from caring that she'd cried. "How long have you and Morey been married?" he asked abruptly.

Her chin tilted up proudly. "Twenty-six years, next March."

"Really? That's ― that's great." It sort of surprised him to learn they'd been together that long. "And you trust Morey, right?" He was feeling smug, knowing where he was going with this.

"I do," she told him. "And Morey knows he can trust me, too. _That's_ how these things are _supposed_ to work."

Something about the snippy way she'd said that made him pause. "Wait. Are you saying that Lorelai can't trust me?"

Babette nailed him with a no-nonsense gaze. "The next time you look in the mirror, Gorgeous, make sure ya take a long look at that handsome mug of yours." She turned and left, depriving him of the chance to tell her to go.

* * *

><p>Not much sleep came his way Tuesday night, so Wednesday found Luke doing a lot of shuffling and yawning. Diner patrons were respectful and quiet, and few even tried to look him in the eye.<p>

The only person who dared to bring up the events of the day before was Caesar.

"We're going to work the entire day today, right Boss?" he asked with a straight face.

"Watch it, Funny Guy, or you won't be," Luke warned him.

When Thursday came, a trip to the bank was necessary. Luke had just stepped out onto the sidewalk and was taking a moment to double-check the receipt when his ears recognized the rumble of the Jeep's engine. His head shot up and he confirmed that it really was her vehicle turning the corner. It didn't take him long to dive into the alley that ran next to the bank.

_So this is what it's come to_, he thought, pressing against the wall and feeling the rough bricks snag the fabric of his shirt. _Hiding in an alley so my ex-fiancée can't see me_. In a town the size of Stars Hollow, of course he and Lorelai had occasionally passed each other. On those occasions they'd conducted themselves civilly. But today seeing her seemed too awkward to even contemplate.

When the Jeep drew closer he could hear music. Her radio was blaring, as usual. She passed by the alley and he could hear her singing along, although he couldn't make out the actual words. A quick glance showed him that she was putting her heart into it, tossing her head and beating time on the steering wheel. The first smile in a long time struggled onto his lips.

The Jeep moved a little bit farther away. His eyes were drawn inevitably to the rectangular sticker on the bumper and he braced himself for whatever message about him she apparently needed to broadcast to the world. He couldn't ignore it anymore.

I MISS LUKE

The big black letters burned through his eyes, slammed into his brain and shot into his heart, where they landed with a reverberating thunk that released a thousand memories he'd done his best to repress.

Dozens of feelings bombarded his senses all at once. Suddenly he could see her face again in perfect clarity. He could see her smiling and laughing, her eyes crinkling up at a joke. He could feel the way his hand glided over her baby-soft skin after she stepped from the bath. He could smell the coffee on her breath, mixing with the cherry gloss coating her lips. He could list every single time she'd stood with him, whether it was defending him, befriending him, or loving him.

He could recall the exact shade of her eyes when she told him she loved him for the first time. He remembered the hurt in them when she learned the truth about April. And the heartbreak in them when she walked away for the last time.

Luke felt like a runner rounding third had barreled into him, knocking the breath out of him. His knees buckled and he leaned weakly back against the bricks.

Did he miss her? Oh dear God. So much. So very, very much. So much that he didn't want to waste one more minute of his sad life pretending not to pine for her. He was supposedly a man of action, right? He needed to figure out one hell of a way to show her what he was feeling, right now.

As soon as he felt like his legs were capable of supporting him he rushed back to the diner. He told Caesar to take over and then he ran out again. He had a plan.

He spent nearly two hours trying to track down Kirk. Finally he found him at job #32, the beauty supply shop.

"I didn't do it!" Kirk whined, cowering behind the cash register.

"Do what?" Luke panted. He'd been jogging from one business to the next.

"Whatever you're mad about."

"I'm not mad." Luke pulled out his wallet as he came closer. He showed Kirk a $5.00 bill. "I want to buy a bumper sticker."

Kirk looked in confusion between Luke and the money on the counter. "You want a Kirker Sticker?"

"Yes. And here, look." He pulled out a $10 and smacked it down on top of the $5. "I'll pay extra if you can get it printed up right away."

Kirk's eyes gleamed as he looked at the cash. "You've got a deal," he told Luke, and held out his hand.

* * *

><p>Waiting for her in front of the Dragonfly had seemed like a good idea in the abstract. But now that Luke was here, parked three spots down from the Jeep and leaning against the front of the truck, he wasn't nearly as sure about his plan. For one thing it was getting dark and he had no idea what time she got off work. And while he was standing here in the open, foolishly waiting to see her, any of the staff could spot him and warn her. Maybe she'd hide in there all night. Maybe she didn't want to see him. She might declare she missed him but that didn't necessarily mean she wanted anything to do with him.<p>

He settled back to wait, resting his elbows against the truck hood, and all at once he realized he'd made a terrible miscalculation. The front of the truck was facing the entrance. She wouldn't be able to see his I MISS YOU TOO message on the pickup's bumper.

Before Luke could do anything about moving the truck, the front door opened and Lorelai stepped out into the amber light. His heart pounded away frantically while his eyes inventoried her hungrily. Seeing her across the square or even on the other side of the street had done nothing to prepare him for this up-close moment. She was just as beautiful as he remembered. Even more, perhaps, although she somehow seemed worn down. A thin coating of fragility seemed to lay over her. Maybe it was just a trick of the fading light, but her cheeks seemed hollowed. Her ankles appeared as thin to him as the red matchsticks masquerading as the heels on her shoes.

She saw him then. She stopped dead, staring at him, her eyes huge. Her hand clutched the railing for support.

He wanted to say something. He wanted to explain. He wanted to tell her how much he still loved her but she looked so shatterable he was afraid that one wrong word from him would crumble her into a thousand pieces and she'd be gone forever.

Instead he sort of nodded and fumbled his way into the truck. He turned the key and pulled out, catching her eye.

_Just watch_, Luke hoped he was telling her. _There's something I need to tell you, too._

He kept one foot on the brake and one eye glued to the side view mirror. He saw something fly and realized she'd kicked off her shoes. In alarm he watched while she jumped down the steps because he knew Grace was not her middle name. He worried she'd land wrong and break one of those wobbly, perfect ankles.

She came tearing down the drive after him. Luke slammed the truck into park and threw open the door. He tried to climb out but the damn seatbelt had him captured. He found the buckle and managed to release the catch with a shaky hand.

Luke ran to the back of the truck and opened his arms just as she flew into them.

And for a time, they didn't need words at all.


End file.
